


Horizon

by SydneyFlaire



Series: Bayani Universe [19]
Category: Goyo: Ang Batang Heneral (2018)
Genre: Blood, Call of death, Death, Foreshadow of death, Nightmares, Precognition, Whispers, poem, shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-01 18:43:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16770739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SydneyFlaire/pseuds/SydneyFlaire
Summary: There were countless of reports about the true events of the Last Stand at Tirad Pass, and most of them don't agree with one another except for the fact that a hero had died there. And history was written by the survivors."What happened in Tirad, stayed in Tirad." That would be the case if he wasn't the Boy General, or the Gregorio del Pilar who've died there. But he was, and Death was just waiting. For far too long.





	Horizon

**Author's Note:**

> The seventh one-shot as part of the #GoyoAngstStories.  
> You can also see my works on wattpad and fanfiction as "SydneyFlaire".  
> Follow me on twitter @JerseyLeigh for more updates.

He knew that he was the great eagle of the revolution. But he always asked himself if he had been that great all along. He was only known as “Aguila” for it was his chosen _nom de guerre_. He was only known because his uncle was a propagandist, and he had stood up to liberate his home province. There were so little he had done, and he was so young.

So young to be a general. And yet… he was one.

He felt inferior in the presence of American generals. Felt so small in a room filled with officials way much older than him.

But in the presence of his men… when Señor Presidente was there, he felt superior. He was serving the president of the Republic, and he was the latter’s closest confidant. He was above compared to many others.

He was the hero of Bulacan living right above the clouds.

**_When angels fell from the earth_ **

**_Does the drop from such height hurt?_ **

_“Kuya!”_

The scream and the echo of the gunshot made him stop for a second. His hands around his cap and the hilt of his sword tightened that his knuckles turned white. And then, he shuddered.

A whisper followed him. A haunting one that seemed to remain so closely next to him. Like a shadow that came along everywhere he went; with a voice that had been awfully scary to taunt him whenever he was usually alone and had been in doubt of his own actions.

_Takbo. Takbo. Takbo. Sadyang duwag ka._

He shook his head, telling himself, _Hindi ako duwag. Ginawa ko kung ano ang tama._

Someone chuckled at him, echoing inside his mind.

_Alam mo ba kung ano ang bulong ng konsensiya?_

He shivered at the idea that someone was meant to put all the guilt on him. He knew deep down that he was just following orders, but a part of him was so sure as well that what he had done was wrong.

_Snip. Walang sisihan, Goyo._

It was evident with that deep frown he has, and that shaking hands of his. The wind blowing wasn’t just cold, but the voices it had been whispering were enough to make him wish to hide in fear.

Like the call of Death.

Informing him of an appointment.

**_Or was the ripping of wings_ **

**_Left the scar that always stings?_ **

It could’ve just been pure luck. Or perhaps death had been glaring at him, shaking his head, and saying, “Hindi pa ngayon.”

Or maybe, upon seeing Death, he had been too shocked to think that it had been the end of his time. And Death was also equally surprised to see him there. Perhaps, if he had asked Death back then, he would explain his plea as “Laking gulat ko rin na makita ka sa ilog doon sa Dagupan. Sapagkat alam ko na magkikita tayo sa susunod pang mga linggo. Sa Tirad.”

But no one had seen Death or even confronted him. It was his own delusional mind that had been conjuring those images.

It was his own guilt and fear. It was his own shame. His own failure and assumption. That made those images.

“Kuya, mamamatay ako!” He screamed as the tears fell from his gentle eyes. He was as white as sheet; just as how he had seen Death from the other side of the looking glass.

He knew, despite all the assurances and contradictions of his mind and of other people, that Death was waiting for him.

_Makinig ka, Goyo,_ Death haunted him. _Magkita tayo sa Tirad, Goyo. Sa Tirad._

That Death would be coming soon.

**_When swords slashed through tender skins_ **

**_Does the vicious villain grins?_ **

“Tandaan mo kung sino ka,” Julian would always remind him. “Lahat ng tao tinitingala ka. Ikaw ang aguila. Bayaning Bulakenyo. Dugong magiting.”

Once, he would say, he felt exactly that. He was proud of all those accomplishment of his. He was superior among any other that with how young he was, he managed to do something unordinary. Something so far from being possible.

For him, it was Julian who’ve always guided him when he was lost. Whenever his Kuya was there next to him, he knew that he was safe and right. He knew that there was no reason for him to doubt himself. And when they were together, the whispers were silent.

Vicente, however, he was there as his best friend and his aidé-de-camp. He could depend his life and the rest of the brigade to him. He knew that Vicente looked up at him as an older brother, believing that he was guided by Anacleto. And when they were together, he knew that he could be that general brother whom Vicente had lost.

Somehow, the mumblings were just a frequency audible.

But… there were moments that even though they were nearby, they won’t stop from winning against him.

“Goyong!” Shouted his brother, pulling him away.

The depression within himself made him understand how close he was to losing his precious sanity.

“Sino ka?” Julian inquired as loud as he could to make him snap back.

Words must not travel about how he was acting now. He replied sharply, as if he was also telling himself that he must believe on his words, “Aguila!”

And they were making him turn away— _run away_ —from his own obligations and commitments.

“Goyong, nagbago ka na…” Felicidad told him once. “Dun pa lang sa Dagupan, hindi kita halos makilala… Natatandaan ko kung sino ka… yung Goyong nakilala ko. Isa siyang sundalo.”

The whispers were louder back at that time. Perhaps it was because his brother was too far away to quench those haunting words, or it was meant to be for him to simply brush away his best friend’s concern of their safety.

But… maybe, it was because the wind was muttering the truth.

That he had changed, and he no longer knew who he really was.

**_Or was the blood that trickled_ **

**_Call forth danger as signaled?_ **

_“Gusto kong sumandal sa bisig ng isang lalaking alam ang kanyang hangganan, ‘pagkat natupad niya na ang tungkulin niya sa bayan.”_

Remedios’s letter was one that could be considered as one of his soul opener. That upon reading, the whispers that had been haunting him for far too long, stopped with their tricks.

He would mockingly laugh if he were to say that the beauty of Tirad was the cause of it, but he knew better that at first glance of its mountainous height… the whispers in the wind became louder. It was just that, he was deafened by it with the removing of his blindfold by the words of his last love.

The calling of Death grew. Or rather, it was Death whose voice remained. The voice that he couldn’t escape from despite all the assurances and so on.

_Sa Tirad, Goyo,_ Death continued haunting him. _Makinig ka. Sa Tirad._

He would like to fight back and remark, _“Naghihintay si Remedios sa Dagupan. Naghihintay si Kuya sa Bulacan. Naghihintay sila sa akin.”_

Then, Death would have the final say. _Mabuhay ka. Paparating na ako._

But… was there someone who’ve succeeded to escape Death out of all things?

**_When both life and death battled_ **

**_Does the sail of years travelled?_ **

He wouldn’t allow anyone to just be there. He would be with the carefully chosen sixty men to defend the lines there at Pasong Tirad. He already knew what he must do, and that was that.

The flag that had been his own since it was first unfurled upon his promotion remained as a symbol that with that on sight, the Brigada del Pilar was there. And wherever the Brigada del Pilar was, their general was also with them.

If there was that history of relations within the brigade, anyone would say that he was in love with his success. That he would wish to be with his men. That such respect and devotion to his soldiers were proven since that day he had shown them victory and raised his own banner as his distinction.

He watched the campfire for a minute before taking out his journal from his satchel. With his pencil on the other, he knew what was necessary to be written.

Vicente looked at him but didn’t say anything. He bid his goodnight before retiring for the night, and all he had done was to nod in return, eyes still focus on his writing.

A few more tense minutes, he shook his head, ending his entry with the last words that the world would remember out of him. He closed his eyes, at peace with having his words written on paper.

Since the past three years since he joined the revolution, on that night of the first of December 1899, his sleep had been undisturbed.

No nightmares. No whispers. No struggles.

_There is no greater sacrifice._

**_Or was victory still asked_ **

**_Waiting for light to be basked?_ **

An eagle screeched right above him, causing him to look up at the sky. The clearness of the blue sky with faint hint of cirrus white clouds way above, the soaring eagle was a sight to behold.

Ever since he was a child, he would always look up and admire the view of the freedom right there.

_“K-Kuya…” he remembered calling for his brother’s attention when he was a child. “Ang ganda nung ibon na iyon!”_

_His brother would always laugh, drop a hand on the crown of his head and remark, “Hindi lang iyon basta isang ibon, Goyong.” Julian would pick him up and carry him, continuing with great admiration in parallel to that of his, “Iyon ay isang agila.”_

That’s why he didn’t doubt choosing to be called as “Aguila” when he entered the revolution. His great feats and deeds attributed him as such.

_Pero bakit parang mali ang lahat?_ He wondered to himself with great longing. _Saan ako nagkulang?_

No one answered. Not even the whispers that were carried by the wind. Not even a voice from Death whom he knew was looking at him right now as he felt the stabbing pain of being all alone in these great mountains and be careless above the clouds.

**_When the bullet ends my life_ **

**_Does it mock what is deprive?_ **

There was something that he had realized all at once.

He wasn’t an eagle. He wasn’t a hero who’ve been with the clouds. He wasn’t the saviour who’ve descended. He wasn’t the heralded one who’ve followed that right must be above might.

For if he was, he would not feel the longing in learning that Death lingered on.

He turned to his soldiers, who were telling him to stay low, for the American snipers had their eyes and aims on him.

If there was something that must be done, he already knew what that was. And he would not run away from the truth this time.

He would fight for what was just and right. For too many people lost sight with the very fine line of distinction that separated the two with might and power. Too many had fought in this war, trying to avenge the past… for what?

Everybody wants to fight. And those who lived by the sword were forced to die by it. Still, it had always been that way.

Was it because of their principles, or just to be a part of a team? Was it the wicked leaders who’ve led innocent populations to slaugter, or was it wicked populations who chose leaders out of context?

_Nandiyan ka ba? Nakasubaybay?_ He asked. _Nakahanda nang sumalubong?_

For another casualty of this unending cycle of sorrow was to come sooner rather than later.

_Goyo._ Death’s voice softened like a lullaby. _Paparating na ako._

_Dalian mo_ , he urged just as he said out loud, voice sure and convictions renewed, “Tapusin na natin ito.”

**_Or was its kiss my saviour_ **

**_Leading me somewhere freer?_ **

First, there was the silence.

Second, a step forward.

Then, the gunshot.

He froze. His knees buckled underneath him as his entire body felt the quake and shudder and the fear. His hands grasped for the ground underneath him. His throat felt rusty; having the urge to cough the bile taste. Blood dropped to the dusty soil.

His strength slowly leaving him as he tried to break free from that foul taste.

**_When death told me it is time_ **

**_Is it alright to decline?_ **

His senses were at lost. His thoughts were scattered. His feelings were jumbled.

_Ano ba ang dapat maramdaman?_

Tears pricked the back of his eyes and agony pushed his mind to send the message for him to scream. But his body won’t respond, or rather, he wasn’t able to do whatever his brain had sent.

His visions blurred as he saw darkness trailing closer and closer to him. He struggled to fight it back, wishing once again to see the horizon that separated humans to the divinity of clouds; to hear that screech from an eagle.

Yet, the last thing he saw was the great disappointment. And the last thing he heard were the words: _“Sabi ko sa ‘yo. Makinig ka. Walang sisihan. Sa Tirad.”_

**_But there is peace in silence_ **

**_The last of these horizons._ **


End file.
